A Third Member of the Family
by EnamoredWithSherlolly
Summary: Prompt from Tumblr: Molly believes Sherlock doesn't want a baby, so she breaks up with him.


"I think...we should take a break."

It took almost Molly's willpower to get those seven words out. Afterwards, she felt almost drained of energy.

Sherlock simply looked at her for a moment, without blinking. Then, he calmly set down the petri dish in his hand down on the table. "Alright. I understand this case might cause a certain amount of fatigue, especially since you're not used to going to so many different locations - "

"No, Sherlock," Molly cut in. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "I mean I don't think this is working. _We_ aren't working."

"I understand your concern that our sexual activity might be distracting us from the actual case itself. I suppose I could always get an assistant if you really don't - "

"I'm breaking up with you." Molly finally blurted it out. Her eyes widened. "I'm sorry, it wasn't supposed to come out like that."

Sherlock looked at her then. Really looked at her. She could see the individual flecks of gold within the cerulean blue. After a moment, he finally spoke.

"I thought you were happy with our relationship."

Molly nodded furiously. "Yes, I am. Was. But you don't listen to me. I just can't do this anymore." Feeling dizzy, she took a few steps back so she could lean against the table.

Sherlock involuntarily took a step forward. Then, seeing she had righted herself, he pulled back the hand he had extended, letting it hang awkwardly by his side. "I thought we had a mutual understanding. Something must have changed. What changed?"

"Nothing's changed. I'm just sick of it. That's all." Molly turned her head away, refusing to look into his eyes. Over the past few months, he'd somehow developed the ability to do puppy dog eyes, and she didn't want to be sucked in again.

He finally stepped forward. He reached slowly and let his fingertips graze over her jawline, turning her head and forcing her to confront him. "Is it about the baby?"

She stiffened. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Molly, I can tell when you're lying. You blink at almost two times your normal rate."

She finally snapped. "I know you don't want this baby. You've made it abundantly clear over the past few months that all you want is to chase after criminals and solve your cases, and I know there will never be room for a baby in your life, so why can't you at least give me this?" Her breaths came out in staccato bursts. "Why can't you at least let me leave with dignity?"

He simply looked at her. After a few moments, she finally calmed down and pulled away from him. Walking towards her desk, she gazed down impassively at the notes she had yet to complete. There was still a body waiting to be autopsied. It all seemed silly now. She sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have unloaded all of that on you. Just...please go."

"No." He turned toward the exit. "Come with me."

"Go where?" This wasn't how she expected things to turn out. She thought he would have left immediately, scared out of his mind at the prospect of having progeny.

"Come." That was all he said before he donned his coat and scarf, walking out of the lab's double doors.

The cab ride was silent, but for the nearly indiscernible instructions Sherlock had murmured into the cab driver's ear several moments before she got into the cab. She asked him where they were going, but he simply stared straight ahead.

It was nearly half an hour before the cab slowed down to a stop outside a row of houses. The one they had stopped in front of was quite quaint in appearance, colored all sorts of different hues.

They got out of the cab, simply staring at the multi-colored house, as the cab drove away. The scene was so peaceful Molly could almost imagine herself living there, inside that house. It would have an orange kitchen and a purple bedroom and a pink bathroom, and it would be perfect. She felt a pang of sadness at the knowledge that she would be living alone.

She heard something jangle. She almost couldn't believe her eyes when a set of keys was presented in front of her, hanging from the fingertips of the man she loved most in the world. But she didn't dare hope.

Sherlock had taught her well. Never make assumptions.

Seeing she wasn't going to take the keys, Sherlock took her hand in his own, dropping them into the palm of her hand. "It's yours."

Molly's eyes teared up. "Why?"

He shrugged, still facing the house. "I acknowledge the sacrifices you made for our relationship, so I decided to get you something to indicate my thanks."

Her heart dropped. A parting gift. He had seen this coming all along. "Oh, Sherlock, thank you." She extended the keys toward him. "I can't take it. I love the house, but I could never live in there alone."

He looked at her then, his brows furrowed. "We would live there together. Molly, I think you misconstrued my intention. I mean for us to marry."

"But how..."

He sighed. "The indicators of your pregnancy were quite obvious. Bloating, increased appetite, general crankiness. You've increased half a cup size in the last month alone. I was merely waiting for you to tell me yourself."

"But your talk of not wanting a - "

"Ah, I apologize." He frowned. "I wanted to prepare the wedding as a surprise, so I told you that to throw you off the scent."

Tears were dripping unbidden down her face now. Molly brushed them away with the back of hand. "You're just awful, Sherlock. Absolutely horrid. That was a terrible thing to do, and - "

"I apologize. John told me later it wasn't good."

"Stop interrupting me!" Molly's face was all red and blotchy now from crying, but she didn't care. "You have to make it up to me."

"Yes, of course. How?"

"I want you to dress up as a duck at our wedding."

"Yes, of - wait, no. Molly, no." Seeing the sudden impish look on her face, he came to the realization that he'd fallen into a trap.

"Too late, you already agreed," she crowed, and then flew into his arms. He pulled her closer without even thinking. "And I'm going to have Mary record the entire thing." She smiled into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of pine and mint.

As he held her slightly pregnant form in his arms, staring at the colorful house in front of him, Sherlock suddenly had the feeling that his Molly was a lot smarter than he'd given her credit for. Perhaps too smart.


End file.
